


One eccentricity

by concernedlily



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/pseuds/concernedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In the Establishment you’re allowed one eccentricity, and if you are a woman, that’s basically it.”</p><p>Snippets from a cis!girl Eggsy universe. (Mostly previously posted on tumblr but now with added pegging!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irredeemable Harry/alwaysagirl!Eggsy porn

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr.](http://concernedlily.tumblr.com)

“In conclusion,” Eggsy says, “It’s all bollocks and they’re all lying. Oral is shit. I’ve had a better time off the 148 to White City than I have off any bloke.”

“Can’t disagree!” Roxy cackles cheerfully. “Which bus did you say? Shall we get another bottle?”

This is the conversation Eggsy blames, later.

***

The thing is, it could have all been so pervy. Harry could have been so pervy, and she’d never have put up with that shit, so she never would have known about Kingsman and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. But he’s never acted like it means anything that she’s a girl, never looked at her tits or glossed lips or the curve of her hips in her joggers. He’d told her he saw a young woman with potential like he saw the whole of her and not like he wanted to see her on his dick. He’s never made any of it sexual, so she doesn’t think of him like that. Even though he’s a good looking man, obviously, fit as. Which is even though he’s older than her mum. Even though he’s sort of her boss. Even though he needs someone to rumple up those suits of his, take his glasses off and say why Mr Hart, but you’re beautiful-

Not thinking about him like that.

Obviously.

***

And then, then she says it. Even though she does know Harry, and she knows he’s a gentleman, really is, in all senses of the word, that it means something to him, that he really lives it-

“Don’t know what I’m telling you my shagging problems for, you posh boys, you probably got no idea what a woman looks like when she’s having a good time, yeah?”

\- that he will do anything, anything, to answer a direct challenge, and he turns in the doorway where he was doing his best to beat a tactful retreat and raises an eyebrow.

***

And that’s how Eggsy ends up slumped halfway down the bench in fitting room two, muffling her moans with her own hand because her legs are over Harry’s shoulders and his head is between her thighs and his mouth-

Fuck fucking hell and Jesus fucking Christ his mouth, she’s already come twice and suddenly she’s lost, too deep and spiralling too far into letting herself be pleasured.

Then his mouth is gone but she’s only just whimpering and noticing that, completely beyond herself, when Harry’s beside her on the bench, moving her where he wants her in one smooth glide, one leg over so she’s half in his lap, still open to him, fingers sliding into her cunt and her hair at once, gentling her with her head on his shoulder and his lips at her temple at the same time as he’s driving her up to another orgasm.

“The thing about those boys your age,” he murmurs, “is that they think there’s some technique they can learn, some objective thing that makes them good in bed.” He pushes in another finger at the same time his palm jerks hard against her clit and Eggsy full on screams, this climax stronger and fuller and better than the others and she sees stars, fuck that, sees God, loses it, so grateful for Harry’s body steady against hers as she trembles against him, shakes her head against his low praise of how good she is, how beautiful she is when she comes.

“They don’t realise that the only skill is in paying attention to the person you’re with,” he finishes. “In understanding what they want. In giving it to them.”

Eggsy gasps out a laugh. The pads of his fingers are circling her clit again now, lightly and precisely, and she wouldn’t even have said she liked that, would’ve said it was too much, but after the intensity it turns out it’s just what she needs and she relaxes into it, into Harry and the fact of what they just did.

“Harry,” she says, turns her face further into his neck and grasps at the lapel of the jacket he’s still wearing, his cock a hard hot bulge under her arse.

“Darling girl,” he says, answers, promises, and closes his arms safely around her as his mouth finds hers.


	2. Girl!Eggsy has a hangover

“What the fuck, girl, I can barely work my phone,” Eggsy moans. She genuinely thinks this hangover might be fatal. “Talk later, yeah?”

“Eggsy,” Roxy’s voice is low and urgent and Eggsy sits upright. “Eggsy, I don’t know where I am. It’s small - dark - thank god, I don’t know why they left me my phone, they took my shoes-”

“Okay, we can track the phone,” Eggsy says, keeping the even tone Roxy responds to even while she’s thinking what the fuck, hating herself for having been in bed getting tea brought to her while Roxy was - fuck knows, taken- “Harry. Harry!” She shouts and he appears in the kitchen doorway, looking outwardly completely unruffled but to her he’s coiled and dangerous, ready to help, and Christ she loves him, which is new and not very welcome information and also shit timing. “It’s Roxy, she doesn’t know where she’s woken up, can you get HQ to put a trace on her phone-”

“She’s in the shed,” he says.

“What? What the fuck is she doing in the fucking shed?”

“I have no idea,” he says calmly, and goes to put more bread in the toaster. “She was in the spare bedroom, and then she came out in the early hours, while you were being sick, and said it was too hot in the house and would I mind awfully if she slept in the shed.”

“And you let her?” Eggsy hisses. “She was pissed!”

Harry shrugs. “She was armed.”

Eggsy points at him and gives him a death glare, then goes back to her phone. “Harry says you’re in the shed.”

“What? I can’t possibly - oh. Oh, actually, now I shine the light properly -”

Eggsy hangs up and puts her head down on the table. A couple of minutes later the back door opens and Roxy sidles in and slides quietly into the chair next to her.

“Tea, Roxy?” Harry says. Eggsy doesn’t look at him, because if she looks at him he’s going to be laughing, and if he’s laughing then she’s going to have to kill him.

“Yes please,” Roxy mutters.

“Ah, a new agent’s first exeat with Merlin’s lot,” Harry says nostalgically, putting a full toast rack on the table. “You know, Tristan turned up three weeks later on a freighter to Argentina. You never forget your first night out with the tech team.” He brings over pots of strawberry jam and thick-cut marmalade and sets them on the table. “I mean, you don’t remember much of it, but you never forget it.”


	3. Girl!Eggsy screws up

She looks at her hands, outlined pale in the dim storeroom she’d been shoved in while they did clean up. She can’t say what she knows has to come next and watch him at the same time. “Am I kicked out of Kingsman?”

“No,” he says. His feet come into view, Oxfords still a bit scuffed from the scramble to withdraw, and then he folds down onto the floor next to her. “God, no. If we got rid of people for a bit of insubordination we’d be down to two accountants and a gardener by now.”

Eggsy takes a shuddering breath, nodding. Okay. That’s good. For a second she isn’t sure she’s not going to cry and she tilts her face away from him, desperate for him not to see.

He doesn’t let her, catches her chin and turns her lightly to face him, gaze searching hers for a long moment. “You’ll be stood down for active duty for a month,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, okay,” she says quickly, already wondering what that means. Can she still come to HQ? To the shop? To Harry’s house, to his bed - she doesn’t even want to know what Harry’s thinking of her this minute under the mentor persona he’s fallen back to, fond but remote.

“It’s not a punishment,” he says and she snorts before she can stop it. “It’s not, Eggsy. You can’t be a Kingsman agent without enough trust in yourself to think you know best. All new agents test the boundaries at some point. Sometimes even rightly. But you also can’t be a Kingsman agent without having trust in the rest of us.” He thumbs a tear away from her cheek. “This time is for you to reflect on what happened and think about the kind of agent you want to be. About being a gentleman. Do you understand?”

She nods, and breaks at the kindness in his voice. He pulls her in without hesitation, holding her tight while she cries. What did you-, she’ll ask him later, lying together on the floor of the Kingsman plane, and he’ll put his face in her hair and say, _I was afraid for you_ , but for now he lets her press her mouth against his, trembling, and she feels forgiven.


	4. Girl!Eggsy gets dressed up

“Well?” she says eventually. She twists about a bit, making the heavy black skirt rustle and move around her legs. His gaze runs up and down her, it usually gives her a thrill but he’s frowning faintly and she doesn’t like it, feels - out of place, like he’s comparing her in his head to the women he’s used to at these parties, used to being tarted up and waltzed round.

“Well, what?” he says.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me I look nice?” she says, trying to be sneering about it, feeling young and stupid.

He looks up, surprised. “Of course you look nice. You look lovely, Eggsy. You always do. It’s just-” he steps in, smooths the silk down over her hips, the fabric transmitting the warmth of his fingers to her skin in a way that makes her shiver, and sighs. “It’s not very mobile, is it? Fighting in evening gown and heels isn’t something we usually have to worry about.”

The soft appreciation in his eyes is real, familiar, and she relaxes. “It is bulletproof,” she offers.

“I’ve always thought women look very fine in a well-cut tuxedo,” he says.

“Next time,” she says, laughing.


	5. Even more irredeemable alwaysagirl!Eggsy/Harry porn

She hits the door release and gets out of the driver’s cab. Harry’s up on the bus immediately and she smirks at him and mimes an old-fashioned tip of the hat. “Paying cash, love?”

“That was fucking astonishing,” Harry says throatily and then he’s on her like a force of nature, hands on her arse and running up her back and into her hair, tongue in her mouth, leg sliding in between hers and the promising bulge of his cock giving her a lush moment of pressure before he pulls her bodily up. She wraps her legs round his waist and he staggers past the staircase to the nearest seat and dumps her straight to her back, following her down with enough grace that their bodies don’t stop touching but she’s never squashed under him.

“You gorgeous amazing creature,” he mutters into her throat, kissing down it, following the line of his fingers as he opens her shirt. Eggsy’s already hot, already wet and high through the thrill of controlling the unwieldy bus through a chase round half of bloody East London, the rush of the bad guy somewhere out there being escorted off by a Kingsman clean up crew. She moans as Harry drags her bra down and grazes her nipple lightly with his teeth, arching up into him and trying to get her hands between them to work at his belt buckle before she gets impatient and pulls his mouth back up to hers. It takes him just the same, the danger, the win. She’d heard it in his voice in her ear as he guided her round the streets, its roughness telling her everything she wanted to know about what she’d get for pulling this one off. She still feels a bit like she’s floating, her mind and body in the quiet sharp ready place she goes when she’s working, his lips moving on hers a thread back to the real world.

He rises above her on his knees then, pulling her blouse out of her trousers, fingers skating hot over her belly as he undoes her belt, button, zip. He looks back up at her and a weird expression crosses his face, sort of proud and embarrassed together. He says, “Sorry about this, Merlin, but I’m sure you can understand-” and she squawks and fumbles the fucking forgotten glasses off her face, pressing the hidden button on the frames to turn them off and chucking them away behind Harry’s head, where they’ll probably break, but after today’s success she might be all right for a bit of harmless equipment destruction.

“Don’t fancy being watched, then,” Harry says, with a smug-git smile on his face, watching her intently. He’s got her shirt fully open now, one hand caressing up and down her stomach, greedy. Her heart is still racing from the operation and him and she can feel her pulse there in her stomach, under his fingers. With the other he’s doing his best to get into her knickers, struggling with her trousers still taut around her hips in the cramped space on the narrow bench seat. “I did wonder if you’d left them on deliberately.”

She’s still on her back with her legs wrapped round him but she contracts into what’s basically the most fun sit-up ever, because instead of an evil Kingsman trainer yelling at her about it her reward is to hook her arm around his neck and watch his eyes flutter closed as she nips his lower lip and then kisses him full-on, taking control of it. “This is mine,” she says, murmurs really, close enough he can hear the slightest whisper. “Not for the bloody handlers to nose in on.”

His arms lock around her then as he kisses her back deep and wet, proper teenager snogging, and she wriggles just to feel the niceness of being held tight, like he wouldn’t let go for anything.

“Darling girl,” he says quietly when they have a pause for breathing and feeling a bit overwhelmed and she’s glad she didn’t have the glasses on for it. It’s intimate, that, private between the two of them, not something she wants being picked up in the friendly, heartless banter that passes for conversation at HQ.

She’s not so good at the pretty words like he is so she just hums into it, moves her hips, not hard, just a teasing grind into his cock. He feels so good under her and it’s like she’s only just noticed and now her pussy clenches and throbs on nothing. She whines and it pushes him into action, going back to undressing them just enough, hands going frantic and lust-stupid again as he catches her rising need.

He tips her onto her back again, one hand going automatically to cushion her head against the seat, and then her trousers are round her thighs and his open and pushed down just enough to get to his dick, her hips balanced on his lap as he kneels on the seat, and he grabs her legs together straight up against his chest and kisses her ankle as he sinks in to her straight and deep and delicious-full until she can can feel his balls against her arse. In this position it’s tight and intense and Eggsy fucking screams with it, yelling out all the tension and triumph of the operation, speared on his cock.

Like this she can’t grab onto him like she usually would, can’t fuck back against him, arch and twist and take what she needs most. She sinks her hand into her own hair instead, gripping and pulling like he would, and watches his eyes go dark and almost angry at the sight, screwing into her with long near brutal strokes. “Is that what you want?” he says and it should be stupid porn dialogue but the way he says it is - it’s loving, even though his voice is scraped and harsh, always wanting to check he’s doing her right, and she gasps out, “Yeah, fucking - fuck me hard - Harry-”

She puts her other hand up, blindly, not even sure what she’s flailing for, and he catches it, slides his fingers in between hers and grips, bracing his strong forearm and their twined hands on the back of the seat. His palm is warm, sweaty, and she hangs on gratefully, letting herself feel relief for the first time since she pulled the bus into neutral, letting the high alert fade finally and grounding herself on his body, on the way he’s offering himself to her. It’s like she can feel her whole self again, suddenly conscious of her toes curling, the backs of her thighs against the dampening cotton of his shirt, still buttoned, her pussy wet and sparking pleasure through her as he fucks in steadily, and the desperation to feel alive in the world again shading into the sweet ordinary need for Harry.

In her new mood it’s not enough for her, this position that keeps her apart from him, her clit throbbing with the need for more pressure, and she moans and says, “Want to be closer, Harry,” and he knows like always, pulls out and brings her with him. He thinks through ten moves ahead, does Harry, but usually just cuts straight through the knot anyway, and she lets him manhandle her further along the bus, trousers falling inelegantly around her ankles, and he pushes her down to kneel on one of the higher seats, kneeing her thighs apart casually to open her up to him. In this position he can stay standing, get some proper leverage, and with one arm slid around her waist and one gripping under her arm and across her shoulders, he pulls her body firm against his and her cunt down onto his cock in one controlled fluid motion.

At this angle his thick cock rubs perfectly against the sensitive front of her pussy, winding her up shatteringly high. This time she sobs with it, the whimpering noises that used to embarrass her with the lads before him, and drapes back into the reassuring lean strength of his body, putting her head on his shoulder and seeking his mouth with hers. This close he smells like him, his expensive lavender-citrus-vanilla scent with a slight overlay of sour fear sweat from the worry for her during a mission that he’d never admit. He gives her the kiss she wants, the warm sense of home safe and he mutters it again, “Darling,” his hand around her middle moving down until his fingers can creep gently into the softness between her legs and rub at her clit. “Good girl,” he says into her ear, bites gently at the lobe, “you were so good out there - Eggsy,” and she wouldn’t tell him even with a gun on her but that’s what tips her into coming, clenching and powerful, pleasure cracking its whip through her body and leaving her weak, fully whole and fully his, star-spots fading from her vision.

She’s sensitive now and squirms against him as he keeps fucking her, shoving up against her pussy, dripping with orgasm, and grinding into her. “Harry,” she says, not sure how much more she can take, shuddering against him, and he says, “Again,” against her throat, demanding in a way that makes her body respond, rolling her hips back against him.

And fuck if he isn’t right after all, playing her body so well, because after another couple of minutes of his hands running up and down her body she starts moving restlessly, the satisfaction from her orgasm already dropping as the last adrenaline works through her body, clit aching for touch, her pussy feeling ready and welcoming, twitching hard around his dick still buried inside in a way that makes him groan and swear. She can feel him shaking, waiting for her, the control he prizes so much slipping in the feel of her skin, her need for him, and it’s the greatest security she can imagine, the way his body loves hers.

“Fuck me,” she says, leans forward and spreads her knees even wider, ‘til she knows she’ll feel the stretch in her thighs tomorrow, and he thrusts a few times immediately like he can’t stop himself.

He stills for another moment, as deep as he can go, his cock hard and big inside her as she squeezes around him. He sighs out her name and then his hand is guiding hers gently down to her clit to touch herself and he grabs at her hips, sets his forehead at the sweaty nape of her neck and they moan out in chorus as he withdraws until her sensitive opening is just holding the silky head of his cock, and he slams into her like a bullet finding a target.

It’s a hard pace, both of them more than ready to fall, to mark this mission over, and Eggsy braces herself as best she can, rubbing her clit and letting her orgasm build and spiral through her body. He’s grunting, repeating her name as he takes her, and then it’s just one particularly tricky twist of his hips and she tumbles again, crying out in knocked-out pleasure, just aware of the spasming of her cunt bringing him over as well, coming inside her, hers.

They’re still for a bit longer, his dick held inside her while he softens and aftershocks rake through her pussy. She drops her head, exhausted, and he rests his forehead between her shoulder blades, hand finding hers and holding against her stomach.

“Fuck,” he says eventually, heartfelt. He pulls out carefully and stumbles back, nearly falling into the opposite seat, grace gone. “Bloody hell. That was fucking magnificent. You’re magnificent. Come here.”

She’s lazy and sore and her trousers are still tangled round her legs, her bra all over the place, and her blouse frankly disgusting but she manages to drag herself near enough to collapse in his lap, curling up against his chest and letting him stroke her hair and rub her back and whisper stupidly flattering things to her.

It’s not very comfortable and she starts to feel chilly as the sweat dries but she’s completely crashing now, from the mission and the intense sex, and all she can manage to do about it is yawn pointedly. That gets him to shift her onto the seat and wrap his jacket softly round her while he summons a car, and she shuts her eyes and trusts him to get her home.

***

He’s already up and dressed by the time she wakes up. She takes her time about it, lazing under the warm duvet and drinking the tea he’s left her. The bruises and aches from yesterday’s operation are nagging already but more interesting is the tenderness between her legs. She touches herself there for a couple of minutes, feeling swollen and sensitive, luxurious.

When she’s hungry she gets up, ties one of Harry’s silk dressing gowns round her waist instead of her own thick practical one, and goes down. He’s in the kitchen, puttering round getting a roast ready for later by the looks of it, but he smiles when he sees her, unguarded and big and she smiles back like the silly in-love bint she is.

“Good morning, Eggsy,” he says and she echoes it, goes to him. He kisses her deeply, pins her up against the worktop and sticks his hand under the robe. She squeaks when he circles her clit, moans when he fucks two fingers into her, clings to him when he brings her to a brisk, sharp orgasm, the kind that just leaves her even more wanting for a good hard dicking even as the lingering aches seem to fade as her body processes the rush.

“Back to bed?” she says hopefully into his mouth. She gropes him through his trousers, already anticipating how he’s going to feel inside with that edge of rawness, how sweet he’ll be with her when she pushes him back into the pillows and rides him at her own pace.

“I rather thought I’d feed you first,” he says. He kisses her temple as he moves away, with an absent gentle pull on her tangled hair. She laughs when she gets a good look at the table, chocolate shreddies and a jug of milk waiting for her with a bowl and spoon. She loves them, she doesn’t even know how he knows that, but they’re not exactly good for peak physical condition, she’s not sure she’s had them since the day she started her training.

“And,” he says grandly when she’s sat down and is letting the milk turn chocolatey before she really gets going, and with a flourish he presents her with The Sun.

“Front page news,” she says, taking it off him. “There it is.” High speed bus chases not being the sort of thing that escapes the media.

“Kingsman isn’t,” he says. “Do you mind it?” They’ve put it down to one of the aliases Kingsman has for her: as far as the media knows, Carine, 21, no photo, just did what anyone would have done and only wants to go back to her studies in her homeland of France.

“Nah,” she says. She knows she did a good job and she’s got the approval of her peers, her colleagues. She’s got Harry, proud of her. “Wasn’t born, married or dead, was I? Does it count for the wall though? I am sort of on it.”

“I think we can make room anyway,” he says and then he’s leaning down while she tilts up and the cereal is pretty soggy by time she gets back to it.


	6. Girl!Eggsy pegs Harry

"I wondered what you thought about this," Harry says. 'This' is a mid-sized dildo lying on the bed, bright purple and nicely shaped with a bit of a curve and a thick tip, with some sort of weird strapping next to it.

"Oh, Harry," she says, sweetly solicitous. "I think it's fine! It happens to every bloke, you know - and at your age -"

"Cheeky wretch," he says fondly, trips her down to the bed and kisses her soundly. "How dare you. It's for you to wear. Only if you care to, of course."

So that's what the straps are for. So that means -

"Have you ever fucked a man up the arse before?" Harry says casually, the bastard. "I take it from that look on your face perhaps not."

"Have you?" she squeaks.

"Fucked a man up the arse, or been fucked?" he says and she shoots him a reproachful look. She reaches out and picks up the dildo, weighing and shaping it in her hands. She never has, actually. But she has wondered - what would it be like, to be the one going inside. Not the kind of thing the worried masculinity of the lads she grew up with would ever go for though, they always reacted really offended if she ever so much as suggested she'd heard a finger in the arse could be really nice for a bloke during a blowjob. "I've done both, actually. But I suspect you're talking about being fucked, or rather being pegged. It's quite good fun. I think you'd enjoy it."

"You'd really let me?" she says.

His eyes go soft and he picks up her other hand, brushes a kiss across her knuckles. "Let you? My dear girl. It would be a privilege."

"Oh, well, in that case," she says, and kisses him to hide her nerves. He cups her face and makes it slow and intimate, caressing her lips and tongue with his, and by the time he pulls away with a kiss to the corner of her mouth, her nose, her forehead, she'd do anything if he asked her nicely, not just shag his arse.

He pushes her legs apart then and gets between them, businesslike. He says, "I'm afraid I might not be much use after, though. So if you don't mind -" and dives between her thighs, mouth on her clit, licking and sucking in the ways he knows by now drive her wildest. And she doesn't mind, doesn't mind at all, props up on her elbows to watch his dark head move and better to hear his little happy, filthy noises while he eats her out. It doesn't take long before she's coming for him, sweating and pulling his hair, and he slides back up next to her and strokes down the fluttering muscles of her tummy.

Once she's a bit recovered he helps her put the harness on, settling the straps securely round her thighs and waist and the dildo at her groin, the plate pressing nicely over her sensitive clit.

Then she's ready and it's time to get him ready. Harry's not got a complex like the lads she'd shagged before, so they've both used a finger on one another before, just gently with spit or her juices, but this is a bit different.

"What if I hurt you?" she says, bending over him and trailing her slick fingers down his inner thigh so he shudders. He's on his back, legs splayed and bent while she kneels between them, and he looks fucking delicious from this angle, all open to her and waiting, but it makes her nervous as well.

"Then I'll tell you and we'll adjust," he reassures her. "Really, Eggsy, it's fine. You just use lots of lube and go slowly and keep in touch with me. Keep an eye on me, listen to what I say to you, like always. Okay?"

That makes her feel better - like she doesn't have to try to be some awful fuckboy, she doesn't have to prove anything just because she's wearing a cock. It's just them, like always, like usual, working together to give each other pleasure.

"Okay," she says. She presses the pad of her index finger against his arse gently, confident enough with just one, massaging. He takes a deep breath and she feels his hole start to give, sees the relaxation she can feel there ripple through his hips and thighs and chest. She watches, rapt, while he takes her finger, but then she bottles it a bit and he has to do the second one himself, one of his big fingers sliding in alongside hers. She feels a weird moment of dissonance at that, from experiencing it from the other side, a sense memory of the double feeling of his finger running against hers while both of them are inside her clenching pussy.

It makes her cunt throb now, feeling empty, and it gives her a sudden sympathy and understanding: why shouldn't Harry fancy being filled up occasionally, the way she herself loves so much? It makes her determined to be good for him, to fuck him well, and she presses another finger in so he's stretched around three, watches him sigh with pleasure and a pink flush creep down his throat and across his chest, his eyes slipping closed and then open to meet hers, pupils blown and thrilled.

"Harry," she says, leans forward and kisses him deep, playing her tongue against his in the space between their breaths until he puts his other hand into her hair and takes ownership of her mouth.

"Are you ready?" he says.

"That's my line, innit?" she says. She's so much in her head, she's a bit surprised when she checks in with her body and finds she's nervy with arousal, skin alight where they're in contact, needy and wanting to move against him. "Now? Now, yeah?"

"Now," he confirms, and she takes her fingers out and quickly checks his wet, loose, waiting hole.

"All right," she says, dips down and gives him another kiss, anxious and trying not to be apologetic. "Here goes nothing."

"Hardly nothing," he says but she's pressing forward carefully, holding the dildo steady against his arse with her arm braced over his shoulder and figuring out how to push her weight just right through her hips, and he gasps, fingers catching and tightening on her arse, and says, " _Yes_ , Eggsy, Christ."

"Yeah, you like that?" she says. "Taking my big cock." God, that feels weird. Both the words and the sense of joining with him she feels, of being taken in even though it's mostly in her head not her silicone cock, and she sees his lips twitch and catches his eye and then they're both laughing, helpless. "Shit, that doesn't work, does it?" she says. "Sorry."

"Not really," he says. She likes that she can feel his humour - not his body moving around her, the way she knows he feels it when they're playful like this while he's inside her, but the vibrations of his body move the dildo subtly and she can feel the change in how it presses against her clit, nudging. "Carry on, though."

She rocks into him slowly, watching his face hungrily for signs of what's okay, what's good, what's great. It's harder than she would've thought to co-ordinate, keeping her movements smooth and steady so as not to stretch him unpleasantly, the thrusting motion of her hips hitting the muscles of her legs and arse and back in unfamiliar ways. She likes that though, the idea that they'll both feel this tomorrow.

She knows theoretically and from fingering him where the prostate is but it takes her a while to work out how to get it consistently and at the right pace, listening to his soft murmurs of when she's doing it right and guidance when she needs to go a bit slower or faster, angle a bit up or down. It feels like a lot of responsibility, her big tough Harry but she could really hurt him like this; it's a good job the dildo and harness keep her at a low ebb and flow of arousal without giving her enough to focus on and chase, so she can give herself to his pleasure.

This time, anyway. She already knows this is something she'd like to repeat, and from the way he looks, the way he's looking at her, the way he moves with her, she thinks he feels the same.

With that in mind, she thinks she might leave it to next time to work out how to fuck him and give him a hand at the same time. His cock is rigid stiff and leaking and dark red and she says, "Can you wank yourself off for me? Show me, Harry," and he groans and gets a hand on himself, thumbing at her lower lip with the other like he's thinking about kissing, and she's thinking about that too but doesn't want to move from what's working so she bites gently instead, sucks on his fingers. She wouldn't be quite flexible enough to fuck him and suck him at the same time, but thrusting a dildo in him with her hands at the same time she has her mouth on him, that she could definitely do, and she decides to share that thought with him later, for now just gives him a dirty smile and tries her best to ride the wave of his orgasm as he arches and cries out under her.

She goes slow but he winces at the withdrawal and she strokes down his body like he did with her earlier and makes soothing noises, watching the way he trembles and moves into her hands. He was right that he's not much use and Eggsy is still high with physical arousal and the smug triumph of having fucked him to coming, so she lies next to him and touches herself while he kisses her lazily and gropes at her tits. It's not the greatest orgasm she's ever had but it's hard and satisfying and she pulls him on top of her after, enjoying the weight of his body on hers.

"Like it?" he says, brushing her hair back from her forehead, drawling in the way that means he's comfortable and drowsy.

"Loved it," she says, means _love you_ , breathes in and out in the same rhythm she'd used to fuck him, a rhythm he matches, lulling them both down into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not be added to in the future - I've no overarching narrative in mind, basically I just like to think about Harry Hart going down on ladies.


End file.
